Ichigo's Poetry
by MakaRishona
Summary: Short one shot I did that has poetry in it. The story is actually okay in my opinion, and has very little poetry in it. Please R&R!


**Hey everyone, this is a little one-shot I decided to do. I hope you enjoy and review. I didn't write any of these, but whoever did didn't have copyright, and I will put their name, if I remember it.**

I sat in my 8th period literature class, one of my least favorites. The teacher was babbling on about a chapter in the book we were currently reading. I wasn't paying much attention to her, but eventually forced myself to zone in once I heard her begin to talk about a project we had to do.

"Your assignment is a poetry booklet. You will need to have at least three poems reflecting on your life or how you feel." I heard her explain before I zoned off once more, peering out the window at the bright blue spring sky. It was beautiful. Though, something was missing... Something inmportant...

The bell rang, signaling that class was over for the day. I rushed off to my locker, not bothering to make small talk with anyone. Nobody would want to talk with me, anyway, and even if they did, I wouldn't respond.

Stuffing my books into a school bag, I rushed to the main enterance and out of the building.

I came home to an empty house, as usual. My mother and father were probably on another buisness trip. I walked into the kitchen. The 300,000 Yen (about 300$) laying on the counter showed I was correct. There was no note, just the cash. _Even my own parents don't want to talk to me... _I thought to myself. I didn't even bother getting sad about it anymore.

I decided I would go and start the poetry assignment; I was horrible at poetry, so this would be pretty hard for me. I trigged up to my room, my school bag being dragged behind me. Once in my room, I threw my bag aside lazily, and walked to my desk. Pulling a pencil out of my pencil holder, I grabbed a notebook from the desk and began thinking.

_What reflects me? _I asked myself, recalling what the sensei had said earlier. It took awhile before I even started to have an Idea for the first poem, and even longer for me to write the whole thing.

Over the course of three days, I had finally come up with a few reasonable poems to present, though I hated presenting more than myself. I gathered my new book, which was now covered in different poems, which I had covered the pages in.

I sat there for awhile before my name was called. I knew it was disrespectful, but I really didn't pay any attention to any of my classmates poems. I only forced myself to spare the smallest amount of giving a shit when the name was called that always went before me.

She stood up and walked to the front of the class room, a big peppy smile on her face. It was disgusting how some people could be so happy. And just like her, the poem she read was full of sunshine and sparkles. I kind of zoned out again, I didn't want to hear about all the happy things in her life.

Finally it was my turn. I arose slowly and made my way to the front of the class, booklet in hand. I didn't want to look at the people, so I just stared at the poem I had to read. The first one I wrote was called **'**_**Forget It All'**_

**(I don't remember who wrote this, sorry.)**

_"Forget the rainbows and the pots of gold at the end of them_

_Forget the happy endings at the end of the fables_

_Forget happy times and joyous smiles too_

_Forget it all, this happy story's not meant for you_

_Forget what you remembered_

_About the warm fuzzy feelings_

_Of happy people and happy days_

_Good times and fun-filled nights_

_Forget it all_

_Nightmares will now take over_

_Forget it all_

_Life will now take over_

_Not much to be happy about now_

_As you begin to forget it all_

_Metaphors and similes_

_Of what's good and right_

_Will soon be replaced _

_By the darkness of the night_

_Stand proud and tall_

_For the stories to be told_

_Of the rise and the fall_

_Will now be scary and so very cold_

_At the end of the story_

_Long before it gets too gory_

_Once and for all _

_Please_

_Forget it all"_

I paused a moment, allowing myself to turn the page. I staired blankly at the page before continuing.

**(I don't know who wrote this, my best friend sent it to me)**

_**A Pretty picture**_

_She can paint a pretty picture _

_But this story has a twist _

_Her paintbrush is a razor_

_And her canvas is her wrist _

_She can paint her pretty picture _

_In a color that's blood red _

_While using her sharp paintbrush_

_She finally ends up dead_

_Her pretty pictures fading_

_Quite slowly on her arm _

_The bloods not racing through her_

_She can no longer do harm _

_She painted her pretty picture_

_But her picture had a twist_

_With her sharp sharp razor_

_And her pretty canvas wrist _

_You see her mind was the razor_

_And her heart was just the wrist_

That one hit home a little, but the tears wouldn't leak from my glossy eyes. And besides, that wasn't even the sad part of this book. No real feelings had even been shown. The third page had a little more feeling in the graphite words, but still not much, not enough to make you cry. I would never would let them see me break down.

"My Dear Friend" I said, forcing back the shaking in my voice as I began to read a slightly more emotional poem that I had written about my two, old, friends. I didn't talk with then anymore. If only there was reception in the ground...

_**(This was actually a poem I wrote to my best friend. I know it sucks, because I suck at writing in general and my poems are even worse.)**_

_"I once knew a girl_  
_Seemed as the happiest in the world_  
_She wore a bright smile_  
_One that stayed plastered on her face_

_But see_  
_This girl had a secret_  
_One that no one knew_  
_At night she would draw pictures_  
_Some were old_  
_And some were new_

_She hid them away_  
_Under a hoodie and jeans_  
_And at night her tears poured over them_  
_Until they were washed clean_

_So one day I found her sobbing_  
_Balled up on the ground_  
_Her pretty smile faded_  
_Replaced by a frown_

_She told me her sadness_  
_She told me her pain_  
_I tried my best to help her_  
_But her problems reatched the vein_

_You see this girl was my friend_  
_A sister more like_  
_And her smile hid everything_  
_Including her knife"_

That was it. I said I wasn't going to cry, I said I wouldn't let them, see me break down, but I guess I lied. I was now clutching the book so tightly that my knuckles began turning white. My eyes we squeezed close in a weak and failing etempt to keep my tears in. I missed my friend I really did, so that poem was much harder to read then the ones about my own problems.

"Momomiya-san? Are you feeling okay?" I heard the teacher ask. I gave a fain nod, a lieing nod. I would read my last poem, and I would hate it. This one was MUCH more cenemental to me than the last. This was something I feared. "You may take a seat if you want. You don't need to read the last one." She assured me. I shook my head. If I wrote it, then I would read it.

I cleared my tight throat and staired puffy eyed at the page before me. My voice came out as a raspy almost-whisper.

**(This was also a horrible poem I made for someone, but it will be made to suit this thingy-mi-jigger.)**

"They say I'm too sad  
They say I should smile  
But no one knows my reasons  
And no ones heard my story

I once had a friend  
A sad one at that  
He said that he loved me  
I sent the feeling back

I didn't know him very well  
We really never met  
But my feelings were true  
And I thought just that

One day he quit talking  
Not even a word  
My love quickly faded  
And was no longer heard

I kept on believing  
That he would cone back  
But that day never came  
And that was that

I believed he was there  
I believed he was alive  
Only to find  
He'd gone to far with a knife

He's now gone  
And my smile gone with  
My first live was scared  
And so is my wrist"

My already useless attempts to keep the to keep the tears from pouring out of my eyes had finally been completely broken. I clutched the book to my chest and ran out of the class room. I heard a couple of confused peers calling my name, as well as the sensei, but I ignored them. I ran past many doors leading into other classrooms and out of the main exit.

I ran straight to the one place I was sure I was safe. Strangely enough, this place was in the woods that encircled the back of Cafe Mew Mew. I ran through the streets of tokyo, occasonally pushing a couple of people, who then rudly flicked me off.

I reached my destentation and fell to my knees. My face was now red, and my eyes were puffy. I made small sob noises as I read the toumb stone in front of me. _Kisshu Ikasatashi 1990-2004 _The toumb stone read. That was who the poem was for, that's why I broke down so easily. It was funny how easily I had fallen in love with him. I remember how we had dated secretly behind the others back, and bassically betrayed both our races. It was hard, but that's just how it was. I really missed him. I didn't relize how much time had passed until there were small snowflackes drifting down onto me, and the sky was a dark blue. I slowly rose, stairijng at the stone before me once more. "I love you, kisshu.." and then you walked away.

**Sorry that the ending is horrible, my friend was rushing meh.**

**I hope you guys liked my first one-shot. This will not be continued. Please review if you liked it and leave a favorite or a follow if ya want!**


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